


Here's To Our Past Lives

by fettuccine_alfreylo



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: 1920s, 69 (Sex Position), Alternate Universe - 1920s, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Alternate Universe - Prohibition Era, Alternate Universe - Regency, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Canon-Typical Violence, Cunnilingus, Curses, Devoted Kylo Ren, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Kiss, Grinding, Jazz Age, Kissing, Light Angst, Minor Violence, Nipple Play, Oral Sex, Past Lives, Pirates, Soulmates, Swordfighting, Time Travel, Vaginal Fingering, Weapons, gothic romance elements, past deaths
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-01-02 19:25:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21166658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fettuccine_alfreylo/pseuds/fettuccine_alfreylo
Summary: For the past four years on Halloween, ex-foster kid Rey has wound up in a different historical time period having insane sex with the same stranger.He never says a word. She doesn't tell anyone about these encounters.At first she's convinced that she is hallucinating. Then, she discovers it's much more complicated than that.Much more complicated andreal, because he isn't a figment of her imagination at all.He's her long lost soulmate, cursed to always live apart from her.





	1. Our love is deeper than the oceans of water

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lilander](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilander/gifts).

_ Past lives couldn't ever hold me down _

_ Lost love is sweeter when it's finally found _

_ I've got the strangest feeling _

_ This isn't our first time around _

***

It happens the first time when she’s eighteen. 

It’s her first Halloween since aging out of the foster system. She’d worked her ass off and gotten a full ride to Coruscant University but the work hasn't stopped there. She wants to be a lawyer and to do that, to get into a great law school, she has to prove herself and be on her best behavior for the next four years of undergrad. And she’s done that every single day since the start of school. She has! But with it being Halloween, everyone on campus is partying, and she doesn’t want to be the odd-one-out in her group of friends. One watered down beer won’t hurt her.

Or so she thinks, until Finn and Poe’s small campus apartment starts spinning halfway through her finishing it. 

It spins so fast that all of her surroundings blur, to the point where she can no longer tell what’s one foot in front of her. Horribly nauseous, she closes her eyes, wrapping her arms around herself to stay grounded, but to no avail. She falls down and passes out.

When she wakes up, she smells the sea. 

Hears waves crashing. Men yelling. And an ear splitting, high intensity explosion that throws her backward from the force of it. She hits her head against something hard, and she screams out in fear and pain, leaping to her feet out of instinct. 

Only to lose her footing again, because the ground is _ swaying_. 

She’s on a boat. 

In the middle of the ocean.

What in the _ hell_? 

Rey blinks her eyes in quick succession. Is she dreaming? She has to be dreaming. 

She pinches herself hard enough to draw blood, then slaps herself across the face, but she doesn’t wake up. Shit. Shitshit. _ ShitshitSHIT_!

Someone grabs her arm and she screams again, turning around. It’s Finn. He’s here with her. But he’s dressed all...strange. They’d worn matching pirate costumes for Halloween, just the cheapest they could find at Party City, but what he’s wearing now...it looks like the real deal. Brown breeches, a linen shirt tucked into them. A long, weather-worn wool coat with brass buttons. He has a bandanna tied around his head and he’s holding a pistol in his hand, thankfully not aimed at her. And his face...it’s splattered with something. 

She reaches out, rubbing a speck off, and her thumb turns red. 

Blood splatters. Blood. It’s _ blood_.

“F-Finn?” she stammers, too shell-shocked to ask more important questions like ‘where are we?’, ‘is this what tripping feels like?’ or ‘why are you dressed like a character out of _ Pirates of the Caribbean_?’

“Captain, we’ve lost too many of our men. The First Order - they’ve blown a hole on our starboard side! We have to abandon ship or we’re going down with it!”

Did he just call her _ Captain_? What was in that beer? She’s hallucinating. This is insane. 

Before she’s able to wrap her sluggish brain around what could possibly be responsible for whatever wildly fantastical, scary world she’s been rudely thrust into, another explosion throws them off their feet. Debris flying everywhere, the smell of sulfur overpowering, Rey crawls on her hands and knees for cover. Men lay in heaps around her, groaning, reaching out to her with bloodied hands for help. 

“FINN!” she screams, but there’s no hope of him hearing her over the deafening sounds of booming gunshots and swords clanging. Rey curls into a ball, trying to make herself as small as possible, squeezing her eyes shut and clapping her hands over her ears in a desperate attempt to block everything out.

_ This isn’t real. This isn’t real. You’re fine. It’s just a really bad trip. Or a really bad dream. Possibly both. It’ll be okay in a few hours. Just lay here and be still until whatever this is passes_.

Suddenly, she’s roughly pulled to her feet but not by Finn. Some pasty redhead with a horrible sunburn and a vice-like grip. She kicks, she bites, and she actually manages to get a headbutt in, blood from his nose spraying everywhere, painting his scruffy looking facial hair from ginger to dark red. 

Then he pulls a jagged, wicked looking knife on her, backing her up against the side of the ship. All the fight she had leaves her when he presses the blade against her throat. She can feel that it’s already wet but not with her blood. _ Someone else’s. _

“Don’t - don’t hurt me! I’ll give you anything!” she wails. “Leave me and my friend alone and I’ll transfer you as much money as you want on Venmo!”

He spits blood out of his mouth and onto her cheek, her offers of financial compensation going straight over his head, and Rey goes stiff with fear and disgust. This is _ her _ dream, her hallucination. Shouldn’t he at least go along with it? She wishes she had paid attention during that Psych 101 lecture about lucid dreaming, because that would _ really _come in handy right now. 

Rey grimaces, wiping his spit away, and spits right back in his face. He rears back, his already threatening glare turning murderous but miraculously, he doesn’t retaliate. 

“I should cut you ear to ear for that, you filthy whore,” he hisses. “But I’d be a deadman walking if I damaged the treasure of Lord Ren. He’d paint the sea with my entrails. I’m merely here to collect you. You’ve evaded him for far too long, pirate queen.”

Her mind reeling, completely disoriented, Rey gets out a faint ‘what?’ in response before he throws a bag over her head, blanketing her world in complete darkness. 

***

When she rouses again, she’s on sumptuous, lavish bed. The most comfortable bed she’s ever been on, in fact. 

Rey stretches, burying her face into a red velvet pillow. It smells nice. Like a spicy, woodsy cologne. Manly. And like...the sea. Sea salt. 

She gasps, sitting up in bed. 

She’s still in the dream-slash-hallucination. She knows it. The slow, rhythmic rocking of a ship on the ocean, the fact that everything in this room looks antiquated...and what she’s wearing. 

She hadn’t noticed her outfit before, amidst the absolute chaos of...the earlier battle, or whatever it was that her mind had concocted. She has on a billowy shirt three sizes too big for her, the tails tucked into a pair of pants. Pantaloons, more like. She’s watched enough BBC to know that no modern person wears shit like this. She also has on an oversized coat much like the one Finn wore—

Her thoughts come to a halt at that. 

_ Finn. _

Is he safe? Is he okay? She needs to find him, wherever he is!

Rey hurtles herself across the room towards a door. She rattles the knob but it’s either locked or jammed. 

“No. _ Nonono_. Please!” she yells, repeatedly pushing her shoulder against it with as much force as she can muster. “FINN! FINN, CAN YOU HEAR ME?”

From behind her, she hears a sound. 

Heavy footsteps on a wooden floor. 

_ She’s not alone. _How had she not realized she wasn’t alone in the room?!

“Finn?” she pleads, as she hesitantly turns herself around to see who it is. 

_ Please let it be Finn_. _ Please. _

It isn’t. 

It’s an incredibly tall and intimidating man standing in another entryway, holding back a red curtain, beyond which appears to be a bigger room. 

Thankfully, the man isn’t the ginger asshole from before who’d thrown a bag over her head. As that memory washes over her again, words echo in her head. 

_ You’ve evaded him for far too long, pirate queen_. 

What is this fantasy her mind has produced? She has never been, nor will she ever be, a pirate queen. 

But this man...he looks like a pirate _ king_. Lord Ren, the ginger man had called him. 

Rey swallows, flinching as he starts to walk towards her. 

His clothing is far better made than whatever she’s wearing. She looks and feels like a scavenger compared to him. He’s dressed in head-to-toe black. His leather pants cling to his muscular thighs like a second skin, and his velvet coat is trimmed with silver brocade. He’s not wearing one of those tricorn hats with a feather like she figured most pirates would; instead, his inky black hair is pulled back near the nape of his neck, a few strands of it having fallen loose to frame his angular face. 

And what a face it is. Dark, soulful eyes. A large, regal nose and brow. A jawline carved from marble, a few days’ worth of stubble peppering the surface. Lips that have no right looking so beautiful on a man, much less on a pirate who probably wants to kill her. 

Rey shakes her head minutely. _ Stop_. No thinking about his lips! 

She needs to focus. Even though this is a dream, a hallucination, she’d very much like to not die. Her flight or flight is kicking in as he stalks towards her, and her inner foster kid screams at her not to go down without a fight. The dirtier the better. Don’t hold anything back. 

Past him, in the separate room where he came from, it looks like there’s a table in there. Maybe with forks and knives. Both weapons she could use, since she doesn’t appear to have anything on her. So much for her dream-induced outfit having the right equipment. Where the hell is a cutlass when she needs it? 

“Don’t come any closer,” she warns him, in a last ditch effort to bide more time and plan how the hell to get out of here and back to Finn. 

To her surprise he listens, stopping a few feet from her. He even holds up his ring-adorned hands - _ heavily _ tattooed, she notices - in an appeasing gesture, as if to say ‘I’m over 6 feet tall and look like I murder people for a living, but I’m harmless!’

She’s not buying it for a second. 

As he stares at her, his expression curious but devoid of any indication that he knows what she's up to, Rey clenches her fists at her side, having made up her mind. The door behind her is jammed, and on the other side it’s probably crawling with pirates just like him, anyways. So she’ll have to get out another way. The adjoining room might have a window she can break open and crawl out of, but she needs to incapacitate him first. To do that, she needs something to hurt him, so she has to draw him back into the room he’s come from. 

It’s a reckless plan, and she doesn’t even know if it’ll work or if she’ll get out of it unscathed, but she has to try.

“I’m very hungry,” she tells him, her voice deceptively calm. “Do you have food?” 

He nods at that, his lips quirking up in a smile,but she doesn’t let that distract her. He points in the direction of the other room and her heart beats fast in her chest as she shuffles sideways past him, keeping her eye on him to prevent him from attacking her from the back. _ Play it cool, play it cool_.

As she suspected, there’s a large wooden dining table inside, adorned with enough food to feed an army. Her stomach growls at the sight of all the plates laden with fruit, meats, and cheeses, and she can’t help but pluck a few grapes from the selection, shoving them into her mouth. She sits down at the head of the table, right across from where he is on the other side, and he does the same. Still staring at her. No overt threat yet. 

“A lot of food for just one man,” she pipes up, trying to sound as casual as possible. 

He just stares back at her, blinking. Why isn’t he speaking? Is he mute? Annoyingly mysterious? Maybe he can understand English but speaks another language? Either way, she hates it, and she has to suppress an eye roll when, instead of explaining himself in words like she would prefer, he nods to something behind her, up and over her shoulder. 

Turning in her seat, Rey glances up, and her heart stops beating.

There’s a portrait…

Of _ her_.

And it’s staring right back at her. 

In the portrait she’s wearing a blue satin dress, her lips painted scarlet red, a locket nestled near her breasts, her hair piled up in some elaborate up-do straight out of an episode of _ Harlots_. But it’s unmistakably her. Just more...18th century. What the _ fuck_. 

When she turns back around, he’s smiling at her again. 

“I take it this feast is for me, then?” she asks, her voice sounding distant to her ears, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place. 

So, he’s a pirate king. She’s his...pirate queen? The redheaded man said that Lord Ren had been looking for her for awhile. He clearly has a thing for her, as is evidenced by the absurdly creepy painting of her likeness decorating his private captain quarters. If she humors him, if she goes along with this and allows him to think she’s interested...she can strike when he least expects it.

Only problem is, she’s horrible at flirting. As in, she’s never, ever done it. She hasn’t even been kissed before and he’s...well. He looks like he kisses on the regular. Probably has sex on the regular, too. No man with _ that _ sort of physique and _ that _handsome of a face is a virgin like her. She’s going to have to act to make him believe her, and she’s not a very good actor to start with. There’s a reason she was in band instead of high school drama club. 

“Um. Thank you. For this food,” she tries, wincing slightly. 

To her surprise, he chuckles at that. Like he’s pleased by her saying so. 

Willing herself not to chicken out, Rey stands from her chair and marches across the table to him. She hesitates only a second, meeting his gaze, before seating herself on his knee. 

She can tell that he’s surprised at first, maybe even stunned that she’s warmed up to him so fast. But he recovers quickly, pulling her flush against him. He coaxes her to take her heavy coat off, and throws it over his shoulder. Then, to her horror, he starts nuzzling her hair. Stroking it. Smelling her. _ Abort, abort_. This isn’t what she’d had in mind. _ At all_! 

She squirms in his hold, estimating how far she would have to stretch her arm out to reach the silverware on the table and get this over with already. 

Experimentally, she tries to lean forward just a tad.

Only to be pulled back against him, settled further into his lap. Her entire _ ass _ is pressed to his crotch now, and she can feel a hardness beneath her. _ Oh God. _

Sweating, feeling herself flush all over from embarrassment, she tries to ignore his body and the way he’s started to touch _ her _body. Strong hands skimming down her shoulders, her sides, her waist. His touch is heated but his rings give her goosebumps, making her stomach flip. 

“Can I...can I eat something?” she asks, gasping the words when he presses a kiss to the nape of her neck. She’s so sensitive there that it tickles, and she giggles without meaning to, squirming in his hold again. 

Something cool, the same cool metal of his rings, touches the skin of her neck in the wake of his lips. Rey looks down, realizing he’s fastened a heart shaped locket necklace around her throat. 

The same locket that 18th-century-her is wearing in the painting right across the room from them. 

She opens the locket to see what’s inside. On one side, there’s a miniature version of the same portrait. 

On the other, there’s a portrait of him. Dressed in all black like he is now, but even fancier. And he does have a pirate hat, after all. It’s a wide brimmed one, placed at an angle on his head, a single red feather adorning the top. 

“...Thanks?” she manages, quickly snapping the locket closed. Much too creepy for her liking, even if she was genuinely romantically involved with this guy. “Can I eat something now?”

He kisses her neck some more, and she shivers in response.

He repeats the gesture, realizing the effect it has on her, and her traitorous body reacts again. And again. And again. 

“Please?” she tries, helplessly, after the fourth or fifth time he’s mouthed at her neck. It’s hard to keep count. 

He must take pity on her, reaching for a bowl of peeled oranges. Dammit. Her plan is backfiring. She was hoping he’d choose a food that needed a fork. That way she could wrestle it from him. But he isn’t making this easy. Of course he’s not. 

He holds one orange slice up to her lips, like she’s a pampered princess. 

“I don’t want that,” she grumbles. “Give me something else.”

He doesn’t react, aside from insistently pressing the piece of fruit against her lips. Reluctantly, she opens her mouth and lets him place it inside. 

Once she starts chewing on the tart flesh, she bats his hand away, only for him to catch her wrist swiftly. Rey scowls, attempting to stand up, but he throws her completely off guard when he swoops in, capturing her lips in a kiss. 

Her first kiss. 

She slaps him, hard, the sound reverberating off the wooden walls. 

And he...he just _ grins. _

Then he kisses her again, harder this time. Like he’s starving but not for the meal in front of them. Starving for _ her_. 

And Rey...Rey kisses him back, before she realizes what she’s doing, and he redoubles his efforts. Hands seeking, one untucks her shirt from her breeches and disappears up the front of it to pluck at her nipple, rolling the bud between the rough pads of his fingers. Rey _ keens_, and he does it again to her other breast. Unbidden, her hips jerk against his, and that’s the only signal he needs to slip his other hand underneath her pants. 

She isn’t wearing underwear, not that doing so would have discouraged him; he finds her clit almost instantly, rubbing it in tight circles, and Rey practically melts against him, her breath leaving her entirely. It feels so much _ better_, so much more intense than whenever she’s hurriedly touched herself to relieve pent up tension. This...this feels addicting, and she spreads her legs wider for him. Her hips cant up on their own accord whenever his finger swipes against her hardened clit. Then his touch goes further south, dipping into her cunt, spreading her arousal so that her entire mound is slick with it.

He removes his hand from her pants briefly and she hears a wet pop behind her, then a groan from him. He’s _ sucking _her off his fingers, and that realization makes her even wetter. More needy for him. But also more afraid. 

What the hell is she _ doing_? 

She tries to break away, but that only results in her grinding against his front, which in turn escalates things significantly. 

With a hoarse growl, he lifts her body like a rag doll and spins her around so that their chests touch, and then he turns into a wild animal, hands gripping her hips. Setting a brutal pace, he makes her slide back and forth across his clothed cock, creating friction between their bodies. He feels massive underneath her, heat radiating off of him and making her feel feverish. 

And the _ look _ he’s giving her. 

It’s nothing short of reverent, like she’s his everything, even though she has no idea who he is and he doesn’t know her, either. Not really. Whoever he thinks she is, this “pirate queen”...even though he’s interested in _ that _version of her, Rey doesn’t think telling him so would help her current situation. 

Rey closes her eyes, trying to get a hold of herself. 

This is her dream, her hallucination, but she’s certainly doing a piss poor job at controlling how this all pans out. Instead of hurting him or knocking him out as planned, all she’s managed to do is wind up in his lap, kissing him and rocking against him like waves crashing onto the shore. And, like a wave cresting, she can feel her release steadily building inside of her, each pass of his cock over her aching, throbbing clit pushing her even closer to climax. 

But it’s not too late. She can still get out of this. She has to. As good as he’s making her feel, as passionate as he is, she hasn’t forgotten that he’s her captor. That he’s kidnapped her. 

“Put me on the table.”

He stills his movements, quirking a brow at her. Using the only available ammo she’s got, Rey rolls her hips against his again, and they both groan in unison at the feeling.

“_Now,_” she commands, though it comes out as more of a choke. 

She doesn’t have to say it twice. With a swoop of his massive arm he clears a space on the table for her and then picks her up, placing her on the very edge of it. He spreads her legs, making a space in between them, and then gets down on his knees. 

She knows what he’s preparing to do, and she’s so incredibly tempted to let him keep going, to see what it feels like to have someone’s mouth on her..._ his _mouth on her, those plush lips of his exploring her folds and wrapping around her clit to suck...

But she’s spotted a carving knife on the floor where he’s flung the food. 

All she has to do is roll off the table and grab it, and she’s fairly confident in her ability to do just that. 

So when his hands begin to untie the laces at the front of her breeches, Rey seizes her chance. It’s now or never. 

She kicks him square in the chest, pushing him away from her with enough force that he falls on his side. Heart beating furiously, blood pounding in her ears, she scrambles off the table and grabs the knife.

He charges towards her, confusion in his eyes, but stops when she brandishes it at him, slashing it through the air.

“Get back!” she warns, pushing herself to her feet again. “Or I’ll use it on you!” 

He blinks at her for a second, like he’s considering the authenticity of her threat.

Then he ducks under the table, resurfacing only seconds later with a goddamn _ sword_. 

He has a hidden sword. And she has a measly knife. 

_ MotherFUCK! _

It hardly seems fair, but what can she do? Beg him to switch weapons? That’s not going to happen.

He stalks towards her, giving his sword a ridiculous twirl that _ really _shouldn’t as so sexy as it is, considering the present circumstances and how he has an unhinged gleam to his eyes now. 

Rey retreats as far as she can, skirting around the table, but he continues to follow her, both of them engaged in a dangerous dance. If she moves a fraction, so does he. If she raises her knife in warning, he raises his sword. But he never attacks first. He’s waiting for her to do something else, she realizes. 

“I’m - I’m not who you think I am,” she tries to reason, her voice wavering. “I’m not her! I’m not your pirate queen. I don’t - I don’t love you!” 

It’s like she’s flipped a switch. Gone is his lazily circling the table after her. No more cat and mouse. She’s hurt him, truly hurt him, and he’s _ enraged_. 

With a roar, he comes at her.

Acting on instinct alone, she darts out of his way, holding her knife up high to protect herself. It catches on something, some part of him, and he hisses in pain. Unwilling to stop and see what wound she’s inflicted, Rey crawls under the table away from him.

He doesn’t like that at all. He yells, following her under, and is able to grab a hold of her ankle. 

Rey screams, kicking wildly, and she hears a sickening crack as her boot connects with some part of his body, doing even more damage. With a pained cry he lets go of her, and she’s on the move again, pulling herself back to standing. 

When he reappears on the other side of the table, chest heaving furiously, she sees that almost all of his face is covered in blood. She’s sliced his cheek in half, a nasty, gaping wound starting on one side of his face and reaching up to his brow. She’s also broken his nose. And from the looks of it, he’s going to make her pay for both offenses. One way or another. 

Rey gulps, momentarily frozen in place out of fear. 

She’s running out of options, and she knows she’s fighting a losing battle, already too winded from him chasing her to put up that much more of a fight. Her only advantage is that she’s pressed up against the windows and he isn’t. 

A solution comes to her quickly. It’s dangerous and she’s positive she’ll hurt herself in the process, but what choice does she have? She desperately wants to wake up from whatever this is, wants to go back to her normal, boring life where she’s just a college student. Not a pirate queen, not the lover of some Captain Hook on steroids. Just herself, a nobody from nowhere. 

She reaches for a decanter of an amber liquid that’s still on the table, praying that it’s some sort of combustible alcohol. She raises it above her head and then swiftly brings it crashing down onto the table again. 

Glass shards fly everywhere. She cuts her hand without meaning to, pain lancing through her, but she doesn’t let that stop her from reaching for one of the candelabras on the table, toppling it over. 

A massive fire ignites, consuming everything the alcohol has touched, providing an effective barrier between her and the pirate. He backs up, sword clattering to the ground, hands coming up to cover his face. 

Rey doesn’t stick around to see what happens to him. With all of her remaining strength, she kicks at the windows until they shatter. 

Then she jumps, plummeting towards the dark expanse of the ocean below. 

***

Rey startles awake with a gasp.

Morning light peers in through the window as she calms her rapid breathing and heartbeat, taking in her surroundings. 

She’s on a couch, beer cans littering the end table in front of her. Across the room, a cat stretches languidly, then falls back asleep. 

Poe’s cat. Bebe. 

She’s in Poe and Finn’s apartment. 

_ She’s okay. _She’s woken up. She’s back where she belongs. 

Rey could cry with relief, and she does. 

But the tears inexplicably turn to ones of sadness. _ Grief_. It feels like there’s a gaping hole in her chest where her heart should be. _ Why? _

She rakes her hand down her face, hissing when the salt from her tears burns her skin. Wincing, she opens her palm. 

Her hand is cut and there’s a piece of _ glass _embedded in her skin. Glass that she knows shouldn’t be there. Glass that was just part of a dream, a hallucination. 

Hands shaking now, she raises them up to her neck. Her fingers snag on a chain. A necklace. A locket. 

_ The _ locket. The one that the pirate, the figment of her imagination, had given her. 

Lord Ren. 

She shakes her head.

No. That couldn’t have happened. None of that was real. There has to be another explanation. There _ has _ to be. 

She rips the necklace off and her hands instinctively go to her pockets to hide it away. But the fabric of her pants isn’t the cheap spandex of her Halloween costume. It’s...it’s wool. 

Glancing down, Rey stifles a cry of terror. 

She’s wearing every last item of clothing as she’d worn in her dream. 

Slowly unclasping the locket to look inside, she finds what she’d dreaded would be there. 

Him and her. 

Pirate king and queen.

_ Impossible_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Curious to hear your thoughts about this. This is my first time writing Reylo in a historical setting, and while I'm sure there are inaccuracies, it's been so much fun! Shoutout to Lilander for providing such an amazing prompt to work with! I hope you like it ❤️️
> 
> Thank you to my beta [Michelle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkKnightDarkSide) for providing constant encouragement and making my writing stronger. 
> 
> [My twitter.](https://twitter.com/alfreylo)
> 
> The fic's title and chapter titles are from this very fitting [song](https://open.spotify.com/track/1Dr5JexwA15wmKe7Y7maA9) by BØRNS.


	2. Passing seasons, empty bottles of wine

***

After frantically searching for over ten minutes, Rey finds her phone in a slot between the counter and refrigerator in Poe and Finn’s kitchen. It’s shut off and the screen is cracked. She remembers the room spinning and her falling down, so her phone must’ve suffered the consequences of that. 

Thankfully it turns back on. She’s met with a bevy of missed calls and messages from her friends that she begins to weed through. As she does, it quickly becomes apparent that no one in her immediate friend group had anything worse than a hangover last night. No weird dreams, no hallucinations. Just drunk texts worrying about her well-being.

What’s even more harrowing: the messages timestamped from midnight onward all note her distinct lack of appearance at the party. She’d left, even though she has no memory of doing so. 

> ** (From: Kaydel | Sent: 12:16am) Babe where’d you go?? We were just about to play Twister! **
> 
> ** (From: Finn | Sent: 12:25am) Did u leave? **
> 
> ** (From: Finn | Sent: 12:26am) Is it bc of the punch? I didn’t know u were allergic to red dye :/ Sorry **
> 
> ** (From: Rose | Sent: 12:40am) hey, the guys are asking about you. did you go back to the dorm early? i thought we were gonna spend the night at paige’s after? let me know **
> 
> **(From: Poe | Sent: 1:15am) BITCHHHH. where is you!!! you left w/o sayign goodbye :’( rude af**
> 
> ** (From: Rose | Sent: 2:32am) i’m leaving now. please let me know if you got home okay? i’ll be back at the dorm around 9 or so.**

Rey furrows her brow, trying to make sense of it all. Had no one noticed her falling down? Had no one seen her leave the party? There has to be _ someone _who did. 

She doesn’t remember hitting her head, but it’s possible she got a concussion and passed out? Amnesia can happen during those, right? That would explain her loss of memory about leaving the party. 

Or maybe she sleep walked out of the apartment, wandered the campus for who knows how long (which, holy _ shit_, how unsafe) and stumbled back to Finn and Poe’s just before dawn, passing out on the couch and then waking up?

Or what was that thing Walter White claimed to have in _ Breaking Bad_? A dissociative fugue state? She quickly Googles the symptoms. A few of them seem to fit. Unplanned wandering. An establishment of a new identity. It’s unlikely, but not impossible. 

Yet none of those options explain the weird clothes, the injury, but least of all the _ locket_. 

Rey opens it again, swallowing harshly, the steely, unwavering gaze of Lord Ren staring right back at her. 

_ Shit. _

Mind still reeling, she leaves the apartment before anyone else wakes up and runs home to her dorm. Hands trembling, she changes out of her clothing in her room, trying to ignore how it all smells like _ him. _

She stuffs everything into the very back of her closet, the necklace included. Where it can’t be seen. Out of sight out of mind, isn’t that the expression? 

Next, she calls the student health clinic for an emergency appointment. Not for her cut hand, because that would raise far too many questions, but for a mental health assessment. She needs a referral for a psychiatrist, a psychologist, a psy-whoeverthefuck because she’s growing more convinced by the second that something isn’t right with her head. As she’s on hold with the front office receptionist, she uses a pair of tweezers to pry the glass out of her hand, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from screaming. 

She doesn’t know why she keeps the glass shard, too, but she does. 

***

Rey never tells her friends. They all assume she left the party to have a one-night-stand and she doesn’t correct them. After all, that has a warped sense of truth to it. The sexual things she’d done with Lord Ren, imaginary though they were, still make her blush nearly a year later. 

The only person who knows the closest thing to the truth is her therapist, Dr. Skywalker. Although she was initially hesitant to talk about the large gaps in her memory accompanied by wild, fantastical dreamstates, he’s never once invalidated her experience on Halloween. In fact, he’s suggested that there might be another explanation altogether. She chalks that up to him being extremely hippie in his therapeutic approach. 

_ There are some things in this life that may never be fully explained by logic, but that doesn’t make them any less real for you_, he’s told her often. 

She doesn’t know if she believes that. She’s a realist, valuing logical reasoning and facts above all else. It’s why she’s taken an odd comfort in her diagnosis: brief psychotic disorder without a marked stressor and an unspecified dissociative disorder. It helps to explain things. Not _ everything_. Not the pirate clothes and locket and shard of glass hidden away - the things she hasn’t told Dr. Skywalker about. But _ most _ things. ‘Most things’ is fine by her. ‘Most things’ she can deal with, and she has; since starting psychotherapy, she’s had zero episodes. No more memory loss, no more hallucinations. She doesn’t even need medication. 

...But when the room starts spinning for the second Halloween in a row, she realizes she _ definitely _ should have taken Dr. Skywalker up on his offer to prescribe her with an antipsychotic. 

Because she feels herself slipping away again, and there’s nothing she can do to stop it. 

***

Much like last time, she wakes up in an unfamiliar bed. 

Well, it’s more like a chaise lounge. There’s a bed, too, but it’s a mess of rumpled sheets, empty wine bottles littering the surface. 

Head pounding horribly, like she’s suffering from a nasty hangover, Rey sits up and cautiously observes her surroundings, fearing the worst. Once glance out the window shows her the bright lights of a busy city street below. She hears cars honking, people shouting.

She’s definitely not in the 18th century or on the high seas, then. It’s a start. Instead, she’s in the fanciest room she’s ever seen. A hotel room, by the looks of it. A penthouse. Everything is in shades of gold, cream, and black, even the geometric pattern of the carpeted floor. 

Art Deco. 

She recognizes the style from an art history class she took as an elective last semester. 

Rey snorts, looking down at the peach silk slip she’s wearing. Well, she _ had _ dressed as a flapper for Halloween this year. She’d been hesitant, still way too spooked from last year, but Rose had finally talked her into it. And it looks like her fucked up brain has taken that costume idea and run with it, transforming her into an actual flapper from the roaring twenties. 

Finding her reflection in a golden vanity across the room, her suspicions are confirmed. She looks...so unlike herself. Eyebrows plucked within an inch of their life, red lipstick smeared from the remnants of what looks like an exaggerated cupid’s bow, her eyes rimmed in smudged kohl. Her hair is way shorter than it usually is, cropped close to her head in a boyish sort of bob, mussed from sleep...or some other form of nocturnal activity.

Rey eyes the hotel door warily, then gets up to lock it. She’s halfway there when, to her horror, it unexpectedly bursts open. She’s already looking frantically around the room, searching for any sort of weapon she could use - a lamp? Maybe there’s a razor in the bathroom? Or is that a fucking _ record player _ in the corner?—

But once she gets a good look at who has just barged in, her guard lowers considerably. 

“Rose?”

Rose stops short at that, one hand propped coquettishly on her hip. “‘Rose?’ What are you, my Ma? No, on second thought, even _ she _calls me Rosie. Did my bà ngoại have you over for tea?”

Rey blinks at her, caught off guard by the inflection in her voice. Rose sounds like she was born and bred in New York City, not in the suburbs of San Diego like Rey knows she was. She, too, also looks the part of a 1920’s woman. Her short, curled hair and exaggerated makeup are both flawless, and she’s in a loose fitting, black sheath dress with an emerald peacock pattern running up the side of it.

“Well, don’t just stand there lollygagging! Get a wiggle on! You told me you needed help getting dolled up tonight so here I am, helping you get dolled up.” Rose practically drags Rey over to the vanity, pushing her by the shoulders so she’ll sit down in front of it. Rose clucks her tongue over the state of Rey’s matted hair, running her fingers through it. “One would think, given how you’re sitting pretty nowadays, that you’d hire a maid to get yourself put together. And buy an alarm clock! It’s close to 9pm. You’re shameless. Sleeping the day away in your boudoir and staying up all night spending Daddy’s sugar and drinking giggle water till you’re blotto. Naughty thing.” 

Rey has no idea what in the fuck Rose is talking about, her speech peppered with what sounds like a multitude of slang words, so she just sits there, humming noncommittally as her friend and roommate - well, a _ 1920’s _ version of her friend and roommate - does her hair and makeup. She can’t really complain. There are much worse ways this could play out. As long as _ he _doesn’t show up at any point, Rey figures she might as well go with the flow and see where this evening takes her. 

They’re going to a party, though Rose refuses to divulge anything else except for the fact that it’s held at this hotel. That suits Rey just fine. The fewer places she has to travel in this unfamiliar environment, the better. Maybe she can even let loose a little bit, since Rose will be with her the entire time. Rey has seen enough of The Great Gatsby to know that parties in this time period can get _ wild_. It won’t hurt to imbibe a little bit. It might even be fun and help her relax. Besides, everyone else at the party will be three sheets to the wind compared to her. She’ll probably stick out more if she _ is _sober than if she isn’t. 

“Oh, what the hell,” she mutters, reaching for an unopened bottle of wine on a dining cart that’s close to the vanity. With Rose’s help she pops the cork, and between the pair of them they finish it in half an hour. 

Headache gone and feeling a good sort of tipsy by the time her makeup is finished, Rey skips in the direction of the room’s closet when Rose tells her to go pick out an outfit. 

Upon pulling on the string to turn on the closet’s overhead light, Rey freezes in place, shocked by what’s in front of her. 

Rows and rows of dresses meet her eyes, every one of them more beautiful than the last. Some are beaded all over, some are creamy silk. Below the dresses, all sorts of fancy shoes are lined up and to the right of her, there’s a miniature chest of drawers. An exorbitant amount of jewelry is showcased on the top of it, but Rey only takes one heart-shaped ruby ring and places it on her finger. The drawers of the chest are full to the brim with expensive looking lingerie. Silk slips and shorts, lace teddies, garters and stockings, and even a few corsets - though thankfully, they appear to have no harsh boning. Nothing is nearly as scandalous or revealing as 21st century lingerie, but Rey still blushes as she changes out of her slip for a pair of satin bottoms, a garter belt, and nude colored stockings.

Rose wolf whistles when Rey emerges from the closet after getting dressed, and gestures for her to spin around with a twirl of her finger. Rey obliges, biting her lip to keep from drunkenly giggling. She has to admit, this is pretty fun already. The drop-waist dress she’s wearing is a lot nicer than the cheap flapper costume with fringe that she’d worn for Halloween, right before the hallucination hit. This one…it’s a soft golden color, the beading of the dress arranged into small triangular patterns that span from the square bust down to the pleats of the calf-length skirt. She feels fun and flirty, not at all frumpy and ragged like she’d been in the poorly made pirate clothes. 

“Ready?” Rose asks, looping her arm through Rey’s. 

Rey nods, giddy with excitement. She doesn’t know why she feared having another episode. If all of them are like this from now on, well...she could get used to checking out of reality for a few hours on Halloween. 

***

As soon as Rey steps out of the elevator with Rose, blaring jazz music meets her ears. She follows her friend, awestruck, down a grand staircase into the sprawling lobby of the hotel. Or at least, it _ would _ be a lobby if hundreds upon hundreds of partygoers weren’t crowding the great, marbled hall, transforming it into the biggest celebration Rey has ever seen. 

To her growing delight, Finn, Poe, Kaydel, and some of her other friends from real life are waiting for them right in the thick of it. 

“Aren’t you two baby vamps a sight for sore eyes!” Poe greets them, kissing both of them audibly on the cheek. Rey has to suppress her laughter; this Poe is dressed in a pinstripe suit, his hair slicked back, and he’s sporting a thin mustache. He looks very Gomez Addams. Finn looks a little more reasonable but still very dramatic in an all-white tux. He grins at her, leaning in close to be heard over the lively band. 

“You look good enough to eat. Let’s hope that the big, bad wolf isn’t too hungry tonight, you feel me?” he asks, winking.

Is he _ flirting _ with her? Rey takes a step back, assessing, looking between him and Poe. Are they not together? Because of the time period, maybe? But - no, no, Poe is _ definitely _looking at Finn with heart eyes. Some things never change. Finn must be teasing about the bad wolf thing, then. 

Unless...he wasn’t calling _ himself _ the wolf, but someone else. 

Rey feels an uneasy feeling wash over her, but she shrugs it off. No need to be paranoid, not when she’s thoroughly enjoying herself so far. 

“And how!” she tries, using an expression that she’s heard Rose say once or twice. She’s pretty sure it can be used as a form of agreement. 

Finn nods, then points towards the bar that she hadn’t noticed until now. There are two massive champagne fountains on either end of it and three bartenders are hard at work behind the counter, their sleeves rolled up to their elbows as they pour drink after drink. “Let’s all ankle over for a hair of the dog, what say you?”

“Uh...sure?” 

Seemingly satisfied with that answer, Finn gestures for Rey and the rest of their friend group to follow him through the crowd of lively dancers and mingling party guests. 

‘Hair of the dog’ ends up being a shot of alcohol, whiskey in this case. Rey slings it back when everyone else does, grimacing at the taste. She’s not sure how any of this is legal, seeing as they’re supposedly in the prohibition era. She finally works up the courage to ask that question when everyone is sufficiently blitzed, sitting at a table close to the bar and nursing their drinks. 

“Aren’t you guys worried about the police showing up here and finding this party?” 

Her friends all stare at her, wide-eyed, then burst into laughter. Finn even starts tearing up, he’s laughing so hard. 

“You slay me!” Rose giggles, slapping her knee. 

“Ain’t no cops gonna bust this joint, not when the FO is in,” Poe explains, taking a rolled cigarette out of his pocket. He leans forward to light it using the candle in the middle of the table, then sits back in his seat, blowing smoke rings into the air. Real Life Poe would be appalled, since he has asthma. 

“The FO?” Rey asks.

She’s met with stares again. Quickly, she corrects herself. “I mean, that’s good? That the FO is in.” 

She doesn’t know what the FO stands for, but none of them seem the slightest bit concerned that this party is completely doused in alcohol. If she wants to blend in, she needs to stop drawing attention to herself. Smiling slightly she knocks back the rest of her drink, then looks around the table to gauge the energy. They’re all still staring at her. Shit. 

“You’re an odd bird tonight, Rey,” Finn chuckles. He steals Poe’s cigarette and takes a puff. “But trust me, doll, with a sheik like yours, you don’t have to worry.” 

Rey nods, though she doesn’t understand what he means by _ sheik like yours_. Yet another slang term that she has to pretend is common knowledge. “Okay.” She pauses, then tacks on, “Sounds swell.” 

To her relief, no one takes any further issue, and fortunately all attention is diverted to Rose when she starts waving her arms in the air. 

“Speaking of sheiks, there’s mine!!” Rose squeals, sitting up in her seat a bit to look out into the crowd. “Yoo-hoo! Armie! Armie, come join!” 

Rey turns around in her seat to see whoever this ‘Armie’ is, and her blood immediately runs cold. 

A tall, pasty man with ginger hair approaches the table.

The redheaded pirate. 

Except he’s...not a pirate any more. Not at all. He’s sharply dressed in a white tux similar to Finn's, his hair slicked back, a jaunty smile on his clean shaven, angular face as he comes up behind Rose, kissing the top of her head. 

“Behaving yourself, Rosie darling?”

To her horror, she watches as Rose flings her arms around the man in a passionate embrace, leaving a lipstick stain on his cheek. 

Rey feels sick. She’s finally put two-and-two together, picking up on the context clues that everyone has been dropping and she’s been too thick headed to catch on account of the alcohol and the unfamiliar slang. 

Sheik. Daddy. _ Big Bad Wolf. _ Those are all in reference to _ someone_, and Rey knows who that someone is. If the redheaded man is here, then it stands to reason that _ he _ \- Lord Ren - isn’t far behind. And The _ FO _that Poe mentioned? The First Order. They’re here, they must run this place. They’d been pirates before but now they must be mobsters. 1920’s gangsters like fucking Al Capone. 

It would be almost comical if Rey wasn’t so scared. She _ knows _this is an illusion, she knows this isn’t real, but she doesn’t feel safe here like she thought, not anymore. Now she desperately wants out of this hotel, out of this time period, back into the real world. She’d been a fool to get so comfortable with what is essentially a psychotic break. 

Before she’s able to stand up and run away, the redhead, Armie - what a deceptively harmless name for such an unpleasant person! - pats her back. Like they’re friends! Honestly, _ what _ the fuck. She tenses, sinking down into her seat slightly so he’ll take his hand off her. “I was just looking for you, sweet cheeks. Care to join me on the stage?”

Sweet cheeks? As a pirate he’d called her a whore, and now he’s calling her _ sweet cheeks_?!

“Well - I, um…” Rey hesitates, looking around the table, hoping someone will come to her defense. No one does. They’re all smiling, looking at her expectantly, like her accepting the asshole ginger’s request would be the most natural thing in the world for her to do. 

Dammit!

Woodlenly, she stands and follows him through the crowd. The jazz band stops as they draw near the stage, and Armie offers her his hand to step up onto the dais. All too aware of the hundreds of eyes suddenly on her, she reluctantly goes along with it. 

Armie clears his throat, leaning into the old-timey microphone. “Wow, what a turn-out, folks! Thank you all for coming. Here’s the deal: I won’t keep you ladies and gents in suspense for long. God knows we’ve all been waiting for this day for awhile.”

Everyone laughs at that, and Armie joins in, slapping his knee like Rose had done. Rey just stands there, feeling like an idiot due to a combination of stage fright and utter confusion. 

“As you all know, our boss has been searching for his perfect match for awhile, and he’s finally found her. The queen of hearts to his king. And he loves his queen so much, he’s thrown this surprise wedding for her, and asked me to officiate the nuptials. For such an upstanding fella, I couldn’t say no to him. So how about you come join us on stage now and make an honest woman out of your honey, bridegroom?” 

_Wait...WHAT?_

The crowd collectively gasps in delight, people turning towards the opposite side of the lobby. 

Her eyes dart towards that direction, too, and her breath is forcibly expelled from her lungs when she sees who is standing near the hotel’s front entrance. Clad in a tuxedo, looking like sin, staring directly at her. 

It’s him. 

Lord Ren.

He’s found her. And now he’s going to try to marry her.

_What. _

_The. _

_Fuck._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued 😉 I had to split the 1920's plotline up because it was getting too long lol 
> 
> Slang terms:  
**Bà Ngoại**: Vietnamese for 'Maternal grandmother'  
**Lollygagging**: This can either mean idling or making out  
**Get a wiggle on**: Get a move on!  
**Daddy's sugar**: A wealthy boyfriend/lover's money  
**Giggle water**: Booze  
**Blotto**: Extremely drunk  
**Baby vamp**: A pretty woman  
**Ankle over**: Walk over  
**Hair of the dog**: A shot of alcohol  
**Sheik**: Boyfriend/lover 
> 
> How many did you get right? 🤓
> 
> Thanks to my betas [Michelle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkKnightDarkSide) and [Keely](https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenBumble) for taking a look at this! 
> 
> If you like geeking out about historical fashion like I do, I highly recommend watching Karolina Żebrowska's videos on YouTube. [Here's one she did on the 1920's](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MCxx-ffyExM) that is super informative.


	3. Don't you remember that you were meant to be my Queen of Hearts?

  


***

The crowd parts as he walks the length of the lobby towards her, stalking, the same swagger that he had as a pirate evident in the way he holds himself. 

But he couldn’t look more different. He’s exchanged his all-black pirate clothes for an equally black tux, and his dark hair is shorter and slicked back, only a slight wave to it. He’s polished, refined, not nearly as rugged or windswept as the pirate. Still, he seems every bit as dangerous as she remembers.

It’s this memory that kicks her flight or flight response into high gear, just as it had last time. 

But unlike last time, when every instinct was telling her to fight - now it’s telling her to _ run_. 

And she does. Faster than she ever has before. She _ sprints_, darting through the astonished crowd, and climbs the grand staircase leading back up to the elevators on the second floor. She doesn’t dare look behind her, scared she’ll fall and he’ll catch up - she’s only focused on creating as much distance between them as possible. 

She definitely can’t go back to her hotel room; for all she knows, he probably has a key. But there has to be _somewhere _in this filthy rich hotel that she can escape to. Or maybe - maybe she can do like she did last time, and jump. Jump to what should be her death, only to wake up and have everything go back to normal. She’s on the top floor, after all. The closest one to the roof. 

Yes. Yes, she’ll do that. It sounds crazy, but it’s actually the sanest thing about this shitshow. Since her mind isn’t cooperating...well then she won’t, either. 

“Which floor, miss?” the bellhop asks, when she practically throws herself inside the tiny compartment, tucking herself into the corner. 

“Top floor! Penthouse! _ Please, hurry_!!”

“Right you are.”

Dammit, she’d _ kill _ for the convenience and speed of a modern elevator right now. No person to answer to, just a quick press of a button and you’re on your way up. Not so with this one. The bellhop has to close the gate first, securely locking them inside for the ascent upward. 

He’s halfway through this step when an arm shoots through the gap of the elevator door, halting his progress. A very large, very bulky arm, clad in a black tuxedo. 

Rey screams. 

The bellhop doesn’t react to her, instead quickly pulling the gate back, taking off his hat in deference. “Sorry, Mr. Ren, Sir.” 

_ NononononoNO_! 

She can’t get out. If she tries, she’ll crash right into him, and there’s _ a lot _ of him to crash into; he takes up the entire entryway to the elevator. He’s built like a fucking freight train and she doesn’t stand a chance. 

Sweat beading on her forehead, she watches as with one sharp jerk of his head, he wordlessly orders the bellhop out of the elevator. Without a backward glance at her, the man immediately obeys.

“Wait!! PLEASE?!” Rey yells after him, but he hurries away, leaving the pair of them by themselves.

Alone. 

Petrified, she can do nothing but stand completely still as he enters the elevator, pulling the gate back into its proper place. He presses the ‘up’ button, jolting the elevator into motion, then turns to face her. 

Up close, she can see a fine, jagged scar dissecting his face. 

_ From where I cut him_, she realizes. _ With the knife_.

Does he remember? Is this man capable of even having memories? 

He backs her up against the elevator wall, crowding in close—

And claims her mouth with his. 

Bruising, desperate, leaving her breathless. He bites down on her bottom lip and she cries out, only to be silenced by his tongue delving inside.

When she realizes she’s starting to kiss him _ back_, her own traitorous tongue sliding against his, she does the only thing she can think to do. 

She slaps him. Harder than she did when he was a pirate. Enough to make him rear back from the passionate kiss. Enough to make color bloom to the surface of his pale cheek. 

He looks chastised for only a split second. 

Then, with a low growl, he hoists her up into his arms, rucking her dress up to her thighs, pulling her legs around his waist. His hands, warm to the touch, linger on the small of her back, the globes of her ass. He starts rolling his hips, bracing her back against the cool marble of the elevator wall, and Rey gasps, slapping him again. He moans but doesn’t stop. He’s hard against her clothed, overheated skin. Oh God, of _ course _ he’s hard. He probably thinks this is foreplay. What kind of weird masochist for pain is this dude? 

The elevator dings, jerking to a stop, and Rey takes advantage of the momentum, shoving away from him. She all but rips the elevator gate open in her haste to flee and then she’s running again. Down the empty carpeted hallway. Past her room, past the penthouse, towards the ‘exit’ sign at the very end. If she can get onto the roof, she can put all of this behind her—

That doesn’t happen. Large, sturdy hands grab her around the waist, pulling her back against him. Holy _ shit_, he’s fast. And surprisingly light on his feet. He’d caught up to her in just a few seconds and he doesn't even sound winded like she is. 

Rey starts to wrestle out of his hold in earnest. Kicking her legs, throwing punches, trying to buck against him, but he manages to carry her with ease down the hallway, back to the penthouse door and into her ‘boudoir’, as Rose had called it. After gracelessly throwing her onto the bed amidst the wine bottles, leaving her in a furious heap of limbs, he calmly goes about his business, whistling as he does. Like a fucking _ psychopath_. 

It’s all too clear that he’s used to this place; his movements are sure as he goes about the room. Shedding his jacket, hanging it on the back of the door before locking it. Pushing in the chair to her vanity. Putting a record on. Some dumb jazz song about ‘sowing a wild oat’. He’s absolutely mental if he thinks she’ll let him do any of that with her, and she tells him so as he approaches her. 

“You fucker! Fucking tuxedo wearing motherfucker! You keep your hands off of me, you pervert! You think I’m joking? I’ll cut you, bitch!”

He hums thoughtfully, undoing his bowtie while he looks at her like she’s a ripe, juicy peach. Ready to be eaten. 

No fucking way. 

Rey takes off one of her heels, throws her arm back, then chucks it straight at his head. It bounces off of him with an almost comical thud, falling to the floor. 

That snaps him out of it. 

He looks at her in a new light, like he’s seeing her for the first time. 

Like he realizes she’s _ her_. Not his ‘queen of hearts’ or whatever dumb wording that ginger fuck had said. Not the woman he was going to marry. Not the woman he keeps in a luxurious penthouse, spoiled to excess, with apparently enough of a wild sex life between them that wrestling and name calling are nothing out of the ordinary to him. But a thrown shoe is? 

Whatever. He knows something isn’t right, that’s what matters. And he’s...taking it much, much better than the pirate. This version of him is a little more subdued, a little more human. He isn’t beside himself in anger, straight up attacking her like, well...a pirate would.

The song stops. He changes the record out with another, his demeanor eerily calm as he takes his time selecting which one. A slower, mournful violin fills the silence, and he shoves his hands into his pockets, going to stand by the window. 

_And tell me how can I sing about tomorrow? _

_ What can it bring? Just a lot of tears and sorrow _

_ Here is my heart, what can I give _

_ Why did we part, how can I live _

_ Without you, sweetheart? _

He looks out onto the street below for a long while, until the music fades away with the final few chords. Now distinctly uncomfortable, Rey hesitates on the bed, crossing her arms. 

What’s the matter with him? He seems vulnerable, lonely. Almost...heartbroken. Depressing, but not surprising. His love that shares her face...he longs for her, misses her, now that he realizes she isn’t here.

Rey wants to find out more, wants to understand why her mind keeps constructing these vivid scenes. Why him? What is the significance? What does he have to do with her? 

If he talked, that would be easier. He could offer an explanation and she could make sense of it. Instead, his silence is a barrier, forcing her to parse out meaning in other ways. 

“You okay?” she ventures.

He looks back at her over his shoulder, his expression inscrutable. 

“Sorry I ruined the wedding. Your wedding. It was really pretty.”

Silence. No reaction. 

“In my defense, I think I may have overimbibed slightly. And possibly overreacted. Because...you know, you can be kind of scary. She probably likes and appreciates that about you, though. I think she would’ve liked and appreciated the surprise wedding, too. She seems the, uh...spontaneous type. And really, if she lives this kind of life, if you dote on her this much, giving her all of these pretty dresses and jewels...how could she not love you?” 

Still nothing. 

“The no-talking thing. Is that deliberate or can you actually, genuinely not talk?”

Nope. He’s got a really great poker face. He’s probably an avid gambler when he isn’t busy spending exorbitant amounts of money on his girlfriend or running what seems to be an organized crime syndicate. 

Suppressing a sigh, Rey hesitantly lays back on the bed, tempted to see if she’ll fall asleep and wake back up in her right state of mind...

Only for him to stomp right over to her, pulling her to her feet. 

“Hey!”

She pushes him away, tries to sit back down. 

He forces her to stand up again. She slaps his hands away. 

“Stop! What's wrong with you?!” 

He pauses at that, lets her go, then makes his way over to the large walk-in closet. Rey follows him, growing more confused by the second. 

He turns on the light, reaches for the overhead shelf above the bejeweled dresses, and pulls down an ordinary shoebox, shoving it into her arms. 

Rey opens the lid, unable to contain the gasp that leaves her, and promptly drops the box on the floor, the contents spilling out. 

Swallowing, she gets down on her knees and picks one up. 

It’s her. Well, her lookalike, at any rate. It’s a black and white photo. A keepsake, similar to the painting that the pirate had on his wall. 

But this...it’s far more risqué than the painting. The quality is poor, the film grainy, but there’s one major detail that can’t be missed: she’s _ naked_. Arms crossed behind her head, her small breasts exposed and jutted out, flashing a smirk at whoever took the photo. All signs point to him. 

She picks up another photo off the floor. This one is even worse. Hand snaked between her legs, she’s touching herself, head thrown back in ecstasy.

Glancing up, her cheeks on _ fire_, she finds him staring at her intently, his eyes dark.

“This isn’t - I’m not - _ not _ her,” Rey splutters, pointing down at the picture. “Not her. I know it looks like it but it’s not. None of this is real.”

He doesn’t look convinced, dropping to his haunches beside her to sort through the photographs. Rey has to look away as they become more and more explicit. Lookalike her with a large, veiny cock in between her lips, eyes closed in wanton enjoyment. Lookalike her wrapped in a heated embrace with him, his naked hips pressed flush to hers - taken with a self-timer, maybe? Are self-timers a thing yet in this era? She hopes so. The thought of anyone else being privy to such an intimate moment is...ugh, no. _ She _feels like an intruder just from the few seconds she’s had a look. 

He pauses at one photo, pulling it out of the pile face up so she can see. Rey quickly glances at it. 

Lookalike her is face down, her back arched, ass in the air. 

She clears her throat, then looks away again. “Um. Yep. Lovely. Fond of that one, are you?”

He takes her chin in between his thumb and forefinger, directing her gaze back to the photo. He points to the ass in the picture, then lifts the photo up for her to more closely inspect. 

There, barely a speck but still visible, is a birthmark she has. A spot in the shape of a teardrop, right in the crease between her left asscheek and thigh. 

When she peers up at him again, he has a smug ‘gotcha’ look on his face. 

“That doesn’t mean anything,” she’s quick to explain, pulling herself away from his touch, ignoring how good he smells. Almost exactly how he’d smelled as a pirate, only no sea salt this time. That scent has been replaced with...cigars, she’s pretty sure. Something aromatic and smoky, that makes her want to bury her face into his neck and stay there. 

He frowns at her, then back down at the photo, and Rey feels a twinge of guilt for disappointing him. Cautiously, she reaches out and touches his shoulder. “Look. None of this - none of this is real, okay? I’m not real to you, you’re not real to me. This is all inside of my head, because I’m just a little bit crazy. Just a little. But it looks like it only happens once a year and...I’m okay with that. I’ll probably wake up soon, anyways. Like last time.” 

Something passes over his face at that, and Rey grows curious. “Do you remember? What happened?” She points to the scar on his face and he cracks a small, sad smile in response. 

Then, he leans in, tracing one finger over her neckline. Starting at her pulsepoint, down to her collarbone, stopping just short of her cleavage, then up to the other side. 

The faint impression of a necklace. 

Well, that’s one riddle solved. He definitely remembers their first encounter. Which means he remembers everything they’d done. Not just the fighting. The...other stuff. The sex stuff. The ‘fingering her and making her grind on him until she was seconds away from coming’ kind of stuff. 

Rey clears her throat, mindful of his eyes on her. “I still have it. The necklace. I don’t...I don’t really understand how I have it or why. I think... I must’ve found it somewhere last year on Halloween, during my lapse of memory? That’s the only thing I can figure. Doesn’t explain why there’s a miniature of you and me in it, though.” She picks at her dress. “You know...it’s been really, really difficult. Keeping this to myself. I’ve told my therapist most of it, but even he doesn’t know about the locket. Or how all of this feels so real. I think if I told anyone the entire truth I’d be involuntarily committed.” 

She laughs humorlessly, feeling tears begin to prick at her eyes. When she glances at him, when she sees how he’s regarding her softly like he completely understands her pain, a tear rolls down her cheek. She hastily, ashamedly wipes it away. This is so stupid. He’s a figment of her imagination, for God’s sake. Part of her own mind, her own thoughts. Part of her. That’s the only reason it feels like he _ gets _her. 

“It’s just...I don’t know. It’s lonely, having a secret like this. I’m all alone and it sucks.”

His hand covers hers, stopping her from destroying the delicate beadwork of her dress. He fiddles with the ruby ring on her finger. Instinctively, she knows this is a very special present he’d bestowed. Perhaps it’s even an engagement ring. The wedding had been a surprise, but maybe he had already been engaged to his sweetheart. Maybe that’s why he’s so sad, knowing she’s gone, a stranger with the same face in her place. When framed that way, she can’t seem to summon any more anger or hatred for him. 

She meets his eyes again. His big, soulful eyes. There’s a hidden depth to them, she sees that now. They look ancient, haunted, like he’s lived forever and only has his memories for company. 

_ You’re not alone_, they seem to say...and she believes that. In this moment, even though this isn’t real...she does, she does believe that. She believes him. 

That’s probably why she feels compelled to kiss him. 

And oh...what a kiss he gives her back. Lush mouth slotted over hers, large hands in her hair, cradling her against him. It’s such a heady feeling, to be this desired, this cherished, that she even begins to feel _ jealous _of this past love of his. This woman who is an echo of herself. She has it all...a beautiful, glittering existence, with enough luxury to last several lifetimes. And if that wasn’t enough, she has a beautiful, beautiful man with glittering eyes to match. Rey wants someone like this in her real life. Someone who can spoil her, take care of her in a way that she so sorely lacked growing up. 

Wanting and having are two different things, though. At least, for now...she can have this. Sure, he’s still scary. Like the pirate, he still looks like he murders people for a living. But he’s so damn good at making _ her _feel good, she’s willing to forget that and suspend disbelief. She can even pretend that he’s a real person, and she’s just a super lucky time traveler who gets to go back through the eras and have heated encounters with him again and again. 

Rey giggles against his mouth at that thought and he pulls back, smiling roguishly in return. God help her, she _ clenches _at that. That’s never happened before. Not in real life, anyway. She’s pretty sure that no real man this good looking would ever give her the time of day, much less smile at her like he wants to devour her whole. It’s best to savor this while it lasts. 

His lips trail down to her neck, and she tilts her face to the side, gasping as he mouths at her sensitive skin. Then he goes even lower, licking a stripe to her scant cleavage. Body flushed all over, Rey looks down at the photos again, another one catching her eye. It’s taken from her lookalike’s vantage point, and it’s so erotic that she feels slightly dizzy looking at it while he pulls her dress down, freeing her breasts. In the picture, his face is buried between her lookalike’s spread legs, but his eyes are on the camera, gaze heated and determined. Like it’s his life mission to eat pussy and do it well. 

“Oh…” she breathes. He sucks her nipple into his mouth, tongue swirling over the hardened bud, and her pitch changes significantly. “OH!” 

With a wet pop, he lets go. 

Then, to her utter embarrassment, he takes the very photo that she’d been staring at, holding it up to her, his eyebrow quirked in a silent question. 

_ Do you want this? _

Who knows when she’ll actually get to experience oral sex in real life, or any sex for that matter? Given her staunch refusal to balance dating with academics, the chances are looking slim so long as she’s in school. But she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t curious about it. _ She is_. She definitely is. She’s touched herself many times since her heated encounter with him as a pirate, and she wants to experience more. More of him.

“Yes,” she says quickly, before she changes her mind.

That’s all it takes for him to gather her into his arms again, carrying her like a blushing bride to the bed. Given how he’d intended on marrying her tonight, she supposes this is probably close to what he’d envisioned for the wedding night. 

With a sweep of his arms, he pushes all of the wine bottles off the bed. They clatter with dull thuds to the carpeted floor and then, he’s surrounding her. Leaving wet, searing kisses along her jawline, her neck, her chest - still bared to his view. He gives her nipple another harsh suck, his mouth completely devouring it, coaxing whines past her lips with each pass of his tongue. 

He doesn’t stop there. He travels further down her body, pushing up her dress as he goes. 

Impatient, hating how the fabric is constricting her ability to fully spread her legs for him, Rey pulls it up and over her head in a huff, throwing it across the room. 

He laughs softly at that, the deep, melodic sound going straight to her core. Oh, God. _ God_. This is...so much. And he hasn’t even reached the place he’s intent on pleasuring. 

His nipping at her exposed skin, followed by apologetic and soothing kisses, soon have her canting her hips up involuntarily, seeking more of him. But he doesn’t grant her relief, doesn’t put his mouth where she wants it. Instead, he teases her by touching her everywhere else. His fingers, trailing down her abdomen, leaving goosebumps in their wake. His lips on her knees, on her inner thighs, on the teardrop birthmark. She’s so ticklish there that she yelps when he kisses it.

That sound cuts off, replaced by a moan, when he finally, _ finally _ reaches her still clothed cunt, bumping his nose against her slit in such a way that her clit is stimulated for just a brief second. It _ throbs _when he pulls away and he does it again. And again, until she’s straining, gasping, clenching, begging for him to stop teasing her. 

“Damn you,” she breathes, trying to grind against him, but he’s got a firm hold of her hips, pinning them down to the mattress. Controlling her movement. 

She understands why he does so when, without a warning, he buries his face into her crotch.

“Ho-ly shit!” 

It’s so much. Too much, too fast. 

She’s so sensitive her thighs tremble of their own volition, never having been touched by anyone else but him. And when he mouths at her aching clit through her silk underwear, she can’t help but cry out; a raspy, throaty cry that doesn’t sound like her at all. He takes turns running the tip of his tongue over the nub and wrapping his plush lips around it, sucking it into his mouth with enough force that stars erupt in her vision. Stars and white spots dancing all around. 

In an embarrassingly short amount of time, her underwear is absolutely drenched from the combination of his spit and her slick, and every exhale of his hot breath on her wet skin makes her shiver. She’s going to climax like this, she realizes. There’s no stopping it. She races toward the edge, tension coiling in her lower belly as he continues his onslaught, his skilled tongue never once letting up even when she tenses beneath him, taut as a bowstring. 

She comes on a silent scream, unable to thrash her limbs or move away from how securely he’s restraining her. She has no choice but to lie there, boneless and gasping, until he’s pulled every tremor from her and it borders on torture instead of pleasure for him to continue. 

Only then does he relent somewhat. He doesn’t take his mouth away; rather, he takes a moment to inhale her smell, making a guttural groaning noise in the back of his throat that makes her stomach flip.

“Um,” she tries, her mortification building fast as he rubs his nose along the clothed seam of her slit, taking a longer breath in. 

Rey clenches her eyes shut tight. A dude _ sniffing _ her like a damn animal should _ not _ be this hot. But he’s smelling her like he can’t get enough, like her cunt is ambrosia and he’s a starving man, hungry for the mythical fruit of the gods.

“Look, just...” She sits up on her elbows, wondering what she can do to draw attention away from where he’s so fixated. She can see the considerable outline of his erection through his pants. Surely he wouldn’t be opposed to her returning the favor, even though she’s unpracticed?—

That line of thought is derailed when he unhooks her garters and starts pulling her stockings down her legs with his damn _ teeth_. 

She watches him, stunned, and he looks right back at her, never breaking eye contact.

He repeats this little trick of his with the stocking on her opposite leg, the feel of his teeth dragging against her skin making her squirm with need all over again. 

And _ then— _

Then he _ rips _ her satin bottoms off of her with enough ferocity that it scares her for a fleeting second. She all at once understands how this man, although he’s softer than his past self, is a gangster. He probably has the same frenzied, crazed look on his face as he takes out an enemy with a machine gun and oh _ God_, why is that sexy too? Why does everything about him make her blood sing? Why does this feel so real, so visceral? This doesn’t feel like she’s hallucinating. It feels like he’s a part of her genetic code, a part of her she never knew existed, and—

“_Fuck _!” Rey whimpers, when he latches onto her again. 

This time, it’s even more intense. With no barrier between her cunt and his mouth, she can feel _ everything. _The pillowy texture of his lips, the rigidness of his tongue as he dips it inside of her. And she can hear everything, too. The lewd sounds of him lapping at her sex fill the room, along with his throaty moans at he takes his fill. There’s a slapping sound, too, but it takes her lust filled brain a moment to realize what it is. 

He’s touching himself. Jerking off furiously, his strokes matching the rhythm in which his tongue plays with her. His face is flushed, his eyes glassy as he looks up at her between her legs. 

“Can I...can I see you? Touch you?” she asks, breathlessly.

He slows his pace at that, briefly taking his mouth off of her. His jaw is glistening with her own arousal and she has the sudden, intense urge to lick it off of him. Taste herself. 

He seems to have the same idea. Crawling up the bed, he hovers over her for a second, breathing deeply, before he slats his lips over hers. It’s rough, wild, teeth clacking and tongues seeking. Rey can smell herself on him, can taste her pussy on his lips. 

She begins to lose herself in him, everything about him, that it completely takes her by surprise when he roughly flips their positions. She’s on top now, facing the end of the bed, her bare cunt pressed against his chest. He’s on the bottom, his back pressed against the headboard, his crotch within reach of her. 

There isn’t any point in asking him what he has in mind; but when she immediately feels his hot mouth on her folds again, spreading her legs open so he can lick her from behind, it’s all too clear. He wants them to give each other oral sex at the same time. A fresh wave of arousal courses through her as she hesitantly peers down at his thick, pink cock straining halfway out of his trousers. It’s glistening at the tip, a small pool of precum collecting on the happy trail beneath his navel. 

Experimentally, she leans forward to give it a taste. 

He turns absolutely feral. His grip on her thighs turns bruising and he _ growls _against her, and she swears she can feel the vibration not just on her clit but throughout her entire body. 

Drunk on lust, drunk on everything to do with him, Rey laps at the salty yet sweet tasting precum again until it’s gone. Turning greedy, wanting to taste even more, she pushes her trepidation to the side and wraps one hand around his length, licking the head of his cock. 

He grunts against her, bucking his hips, which shoves his cock further inside of her mouth. It’s a tight fit and she nearly gags he’s so huge, hitting the back of her throat, but the sound turns into a whine as she feels his tongue penetrate her again. 

So begins a crazy, unbelievably tantalizing feedback loop, both of them becoming more and more vocal as they pleasure each other. He’s nothing short of gifted with his mouth, making an absolute mess between her thighs, and she’s steadily gaining more confidence with him. She can’t seem to work his entire cock into her mouth, but she compensates by stroking the rest of his length with her hand, moving in tandem to every inward suck. 

The air turns thick with the mixed smell of their arousal, the wet and filthy sounds of their little contest spurring them onward. For every suck and lick he gives her, she returns right back to him in equal fervor. Rey is determined to make him cum first, just to say she did. 

But it turns out he’s similarly competitive. He presses one then _ two _of his large fingers inside of her, immediately finding and pressing on the spongy patch of her G-spot, like he’s pleasured it time and time again. Which is true, in a sense. He doesn’t know her, but he knows her body like the back of his hand. Those stacks and stacks of photographs, all of them filthy...it’s a testament to how devastating of a lover he can be. How thorough, how intense, how all-encompassing. She never stood a chance. 

Her first orgasm was quiet. This time, the second time she comes, the sound of her strangled cry is so loud that it reverberates off the walls. She’s never come twice in a row so quickly, so effortlessly, and it’s almost too intense for her to bear. 

As she comes down from the intense high, as he wrings every bit of pleasure from her with his talented mouth and fingers, she _ knows _she has to hear him lose himself in the same way. She won’t be satisfied unless he does. And she’s pretty sure she can, if she can manage to somehow fit him all inside. Head reeling as she grinds against his face, blood pounding away in her ears, Rey sucks him into her mouth again. She forces her throat open to accept him, then slides inch by inch down his cock, swallowing him deeper, ignoring her immediate impulse to pull back up so as not to gag. 

The payoff, she finds, is well worth it. 

The _ sounds _he makes when he finds his release...so animalistic, so intense, that she clenches around his thick fingers, the aftershocks of her own orgasm still coursing through her. 

She can’t taste his cum, but she can feel it slide down, obscenely lubricating her throat. Painting it as his. 

In a flurry of movement, he pulls his fingers out of her, then pulls her off of his length with a wet sounding _ pop_. He gathers her into his arms, kissing her _ everywhere. _He’s saying thank you, she distantly realizes. It’s his way of showing her how much he appreciated what she did, since he can’t outright say it. 

“You’re welcome. Thank you for what you did to me. And what you let me do to you. I - that was—”

Life changing. Spellbinding. More empowering than she ever would have thought. So depraved and yet so spiritual. Everything that she could have hoped for out of a partner. Everything that she wanted her first experience with oral sex to be. 

Except…

“I wish you were real,” she whispers against him, kissing him back, her eyes growing heavy with sleep. “Why can’t you be real?” 

He stiffens against her, his frantic kissing stopped. 

But she’s far too tired to give it much thought. She snuggles against him, murmuring goodnight.

*** 

When she wakes up again, she can hear that same song from before. The sad one. 

_And tell me how can I sing about tomorrow? _

_ What can it bring? Just a lot of tears and sorrow _

She feels cold. No, she’s freezing. It takes her a moment to realize she’s in bed by herself. He’s not here to warm her up. 

Turning on her side, she finds him standing by the window like before. But it’s been flung open, the curtains flapping as the frigid air from outside permeates the room. 

“Ren?” she calls for him, hesitantly. 

He turns around to face her, and her stomach drops. 

He’s been drinking. A lot. He’s holding a bottle of liquor in one hand, and he looks absolutely _ wrecked_. His hair is a mess, like he’s raked his hands through it countless times. His eyes are red, puffy. He’s been _ crying_. 

“Oh. Oh, hey. It’s okay!” 

She rushes towards him, intent on comforting him. She’s always been shit at this, never having been given much love as a foster kid, but she still tries. Gathering him into her arms, hugging him tight when he tries to pull away. 

“What’s wrong? Can you tell me?”

He shakes his head no at that, his shoulders racking with sobs. He drops the bottle of alcohol to the floor, spilling its contents. 

Oh, no. She’s making it worse. 

“Maybe...can you write it? Write it down?” 

He stills. Rey takes that as a yes. 

Leaving him by the window, she goes about the room trying to find something to write with. Eventually, she finds a fountain pen stashed away in a desk drawer. She runs back to the closet, picking up one of the photographs. He can write on the back of it. 

“Here! Here, use this!” she urges him, pushing the photo and pen into his hands. 

He stares down at them, then back at her. 

“Please?” she asks. 

He pauses again, then scribbles something down. His hands are shaking when he holds it up for her to read. 

_Cannot explain. Cursed_.

Rey blinks. “I - what? I don’t understand. What do you mean, cursed?”

He scratches through those words, then writes several more. 

_You don’t remember. I tried but you don’t. _

“What don’t I remember?” 

He scribbles some more.

_ Know this: I will find you in every lifetime, _ _in every place. _

_ First, one of us must die. _

_ But I’ll be _ _ damned _ _ if it’s you this time_.

Rey stares down at the written words, speechless. 

_ Die? _

_ This time? _

Before she can ask anymore questions, before she can even fully process all of what was written, he kisses her. Slow, tender, stealing her breath but in a different way than his previous kisses had. This one...it feels like a goodbye. Like he’s pouring every bit of himself into it, because he won’t be able to kiss her anymore. 

When he pulls away, he’s breathing rapidly. He’s scared. 

He jots something down one last time, then gives the photo to her. 

More like pushes it into her arms, so she’ll stumble back. Away from the window. 

Then, before she can yell, before she can scream at him to stop, he steps out onto the window ledge. 

***

For the second year in a row, Rey startles awake with a gasp, struggling to draw in breath as memories flood her. 

Ren. The 1920’s. That party which was actually a wedding. Him chasing her back to the hotel room. Those photographs. What they’d done afterward. 

And...his note. 

How he jumped.

She takes a quick look at her surroundings, relaxing a bit as she realizes she’s in the apartment she now shares with Rose. She’s safe again. Back to normal. Which is an enormous relief, considering that she’s _naked_, laying facedown on her bed. She doesn’t have a stitch of clothing on. 

Quietly as she can, Rey stumbles her way to the bathroom down the hall, right across from Rose’s room.

She almost has a heart attack when she sees her reflection close up. Her hair is still short. Her makeup is dark and smudged. There are bruises along her body. _ Lovebites_. 

And there, on her finger...a ring. A heartshaped ruby ring. 

She lifts her hand to get a closer look at the ring, unclenching her fist. Something falls from inside her palm onto the bathroom floor. A piece of paper?

Rey bends down to pick it up, unfolding it. 

No. Not paper. A crumpled up _ photo_. 

It’s them. Her and Ren. 

The same one of them pressed together, in an incredibly intimate moment. 

Flipping the photo onto its back, she finds the words are still there. Scribbled, messy.

<strike>_Cannot explain. Cursed_.</strike>

_ You don’t remember. I tried but you don’t. _

_ Know this: I will find you in every lifetime, _ _in every place. _

_ First, one of us must die. _

_ But I’ll be _ _ damned _ _ if it’s you this time_.

There are two additional sentences tacked on to the end that she doesn’t remember, and it’s these two that send a shiver up her spine: 

_ Wait for me, Rey. _

_ I’ve waited ages for you. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The two songs referenced in this chapter:
> 
> [Let's Sow a Wild Oat](https://open.spotify.com/track/3AcggJZtc0Pr6gjAwfjx9D)   
[Without You Sweetheart](https://open.spotify.com/track/6K1jTEIYaa0FV0Y72qtZfJ)
> 
> I actually have a [whole playlist of 1920's songs](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4gwbueDTEpmON1fIBQi9M4) because I have a long neglected (and unpublished LOL) 1920's AU. Maybe I'll get to it someday, who knows! 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter ♥️ Curious to hear your thoughts!
> 
> As always, thank you to my betas [Keely](https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenBumble) and [Michelle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkKnightDarkSide) for their help!


	4. Diamond sparrow, my moonlit majesty

***

After rereading the note dozens of times, trying to parse its meaning, Rey stops believing she’s psychotic - and immediately nosedives into wilder, stranger, alternative explanations instead. 

It’s what Dr. Skywalker told her to do, after all, and it’s strangely freeing to know that her mind isn’t to blame. 

Someway, somehow...it was real. She went back in time. She _ knows _ it, and she wants to be able to prove it. 

Her search for answers soon turns into a full blown obsession. Not enough to make her grades suffer, but enough that she willingly enrolls in classes she would’ve never selected as electives before. Intro to Metaphysics, Archaeology - hell, even a Science Fiction creative writing course, just to gather ideas and open up her mind. And what she can’t fit into her busy schedule, she audits. She researches. Magic and witchcraft. Transversable wormholes. The space-time continuum. She delves deeper and deeper. Trying to find everything, _ anything, _that will give her some insight into what the hell happened.

Her trinkets come in handy for this. 

She learns about radiometric dating methods, and even entertains the thought of sending the glass shard she pried from her hand last year to a special lab for testing. However, the $400 price tag attached to the most basic analysis puts a stop to that idea.

Fortunately, another opportunity eventually presents itself: a free antique appraisal organized by Coruscant’s history department. She arrives at the event with the ring and locket in tow, anxiously waiting in the long line of students spanning the length of the auditorium. 

When it’s finally her turn, she all but shoves the jewelry into the tiny professor’s arms. 

“Beautiful pieces,” the woman says, gesturing for Rey to take a seat on the opposite side of the plastic table. It’s one of many set up in the room, but Rey is glad to be at this one. This particular professor - Dr. Kanata, her name badge reads - looks wise beyond her already considerable years. If there’s anyone here who would have answers, it’s her. 

The professor handles the jewelry with utmost care using a special pair of gloves, her large glasses perched on the tip of her nose. 

“Was nothing in this locket?” Kanata asks as she slowly unclasps it. 

“Uh, no. Not that I’m aware of,” Rey lies, hoping she sounds convincing. She made sure to remove the miniature paintings of her and Ren ahead of time.

Dr. Kanata hums at that, seemingly satisfied, and continues her appraisal with no more questions until the end, when she gently passes the jewelry back to Rey. 

“Take very great care of these. It appears you already have. They’re in excellent condition. Heirlooms?”

“Yes.” Another lie, but necessary. 

Dr. Kanata nods. “Well, my dear, I’ll give you my appraisal, but I would suggest you follow up with another expert to get a second opinion. See if you can narrow down a year. And these need to be insured if they aren’t already. I’m happy to provide you with a few contacts if you’d like. It would certainly give me some peace of mind.” 

“Sure!” Rey smiles politely, even though her heart is beating out a vicious rhythm in her chest, making it hard to sit still. 

“The ruby ring is late 1920’s. I’ve seen similar ones dated 1928 or 1929. The cut and style suggest it was crafted around that time. The locket, on the other hand...it is older. Much older.”

“How much older?” Rey manages, her voice barely above a whisper. She’s almost afraid to find out, but she braces herself. This is what she’s been waiting for. 

Maz smiles, shaking her head in wonder. “1730’s? Could be even earlier. I’ve never seen something from the time period so well preserved, but it was most assuredly crafted then. The intricate floral design on the gold is indicative of the early-to-mid 18th century.”

_ Early-to-mid 18th century_.

That...checks out, based on what she’s researched about piracy’s ‘Golden Age’. But, still, to hear it confirmed after all this time... 

“Are...are you sure?” 

Rey’s voice sounds distant to her own ears. She feels faint, dizzy, like she’s going to pass out. 

And she actually does.

...Right after Kanata goes on to inform her that both necklace and ring are precious antiques, easily worth millions of dollars. 

Each. 

***

A normal person would insure the jewelry as Dr. Kanata suggested. 

Rey doesn’t do that. 

Most would cash in the millions of dollars if given the opportunity. 

Rey doesn’t do that, either. 

She can hardly bear the thought of parting with the ring and necklace even for an exorbitant price. Selling the jewelry feels fundamentally wrong, somehow. 

Besides, she doesn’t think Ren would be very pleased if she did. 

_ Ren_.

Not a figment of her imagination, it turns out, but an actual person. Flesh and blood like herself but shrouded in far more questions than answers. She’s already searched for him in history books and online archives but with no success. There isn’t a trace of him. No pirate captain from the early 1700’s with the name Ren. No kingpin from the 1920’s, either. 

Despite what the records say, there isn’t a doubt in her mind anymore. He existed. Or he _ does _exist. If her most recent theory is right - if there’s an iteration of him in every lifetime...a present day Ren could be out there somewhere right now. Waiting for her, just like he's always done. 

_Wait for me, Rey. _

_ I’ve waited ages for you._

Those words keep her up at night, as does the memory of his haunted face, tear stained and pale, just seconds before jumping to his death. 

That can’t happen again. 

She won’t allow it. 

The next time she sees him, she’s never going to let him go. She’ll find him and she’ll make things right. She’ll break the curse...whatever it is. She _ has _to. 

This single minded determination helps the months pass quickly for her, and by the following October, Rey is ready. 

Ready to be transported, ready to see him again. 

Ready to live out the rest of her days in another era with the man she’s 99.999% sure is her long lost soulmate. 

Because if what his note said was true - if he’s waited for her, given up everything for her, again and again...

It’s Rey’s turn to do the same for him. 

***

“Rey, come on! Finn and Poe are already at the bar! We gotta take a group photo before either of them are too plastered to — oh.” 

Rose’s smile transforms into a grimace as she watches Rey come out of her bedroom. 

“What the hell, Rey? What _ is _ that?” 

Rey glances down at her costume. It took a bit of Googling to locate something that didn’t look completely ridiculous, but she’s happy with what she found. An off white silk gown with an Empire waist and puff sleeves. Only $35 dollars on Ebay, sold by a retired high school theater teacher. The description said the dress was made for a production of _ Sense and Sensibility_. That had been good enough for Rey. Paired with her locket and ruby ring, she has everything she needs to make this night the one she wants. 

“It’s...my Halloween costume,” she explains, when Rose continues to stare at her.

“_Rey_. We’re going bar-hopping.”

“So?”

“So you’re dressed like a _Jane fucking Austen_ heroine instead of Daphne!” Rose pushes her square-framed glasses up onto her forehead, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Finn is Shaggy, Poe is Fred, I’m Velma and you’re Daphne! That’s what we agreed upon!! No one will recognize that our group is Mystery Incorporated without your purple dress or Go-Go boots!” 

Rey sighs. “I told you, Daphne isn’t as important as Scooby Doo. Mystery Incorporated is incomplete without a Scooby Doo. We don’t have one, so...”

“We tried!! We tried to get a Scoob! Poe decided we can’t take Bebe out to the bars, though.”

“Because Bebe is a cat and cats don’t bar-hop.” 

“They _ could_! Bebe is really well-behaved for a cat. He wouldn't spook easily in a crowd.”

Poe’s scratches up and down his arms when he’d tried to force his cat into a dog costume suggests that Bebe most definitely _ would _spook, but Rey decides to keep that comment to herself. “Right.” 

Rose throws up her arms in frustration. “Right, so will you just change costumes? _ Please_?!” 

Rey shakes her head no, even though Rose is giving her the biggest case of stink eye she’s ever seen. “I can’t do that.”

“Why not?!”

“I just can’t, Rose. I’m really sorry.” 

She wishes this could be easier. That she could tell her friends everything. But she knows they wouldn’t understand even if she explained it in detail. Keeping it to something simple like “I’m dressed like a Jane Austen heroine because I’m traveling back to the Regency Era to find my soulmate so we can spend our lives together” would be even worse. Even if it’s her last night in the 21st century, even if she’ll never see these present day versions of her friends again, she’d rather they be slightly pissed about her change of costume but still happy. Confessing to everything would ruin their night. Their entire year. Maybe their entire lives.

This is better. Beyond bittersweet for her, but better for everyone else.

“I’ll buy you the first round of drinks to make up for it,” Rey offers as an apology, wrapping Rose in a tight hug. The last hug for 21st century them, but hopefully not the last overall. Rey is counting on everyone she knows in this life having a counterpart in the past. If they don’t...well, she’ll deal with that grief when she deals with it. For now, for tonight, she wants to celebrate her last Halloween as a college student surrounded by her friends. 

“Promise?” Rose grumbles, returning her hug. 

Rey nods into Rose’s shoulder, holding back her tears. “I promise.”

She remains true to her word, though her head starts to spin just a few minutes after she orders shots at the bar. As everyone else grimaces and groans while knocking back the liquor, she calmly places her wallet and phone on the bar top. There won’t be any need for them where she’s going. 

She quickly makes her way to the bathroom before Rose offers to come along or Finn and Poe pull her out onto the bar’s dance floor again. She’s already said her silent goodbyes to them all, anyway. More hugs with Rose. Belting along with Finn and Poe to “Bohemian Rhapsody” like she’s never done before, much to their drunken delight. Committing all their faces to memory. She's made her peace with leaving this life and everyone she loves behind. 

Now she’s destined for something more. A life with _ him_. 

Locking herself into the very last bathroom stall, Rey manages to tie her golden half-mask behind her head with shaking hands. Then, her world goes completely dark. 

***

She wakes up to someone rudely shaking her awake. Rey begins to stir on her own, but a sudden _ slap _to her face causes her to jolt upright.

She’s in a library or study of some sort, dimly lit. A fire crackles away in the hearth and in the distance, she can hear string music. Laughter. A party. That’s where she wants to be. Where _ he _probably is. So why isn’t she there? What if he’s looking for her? What if—

These thoughts are cut short when she receives another stinging slap to her cheek. 

“Wake up! I didn’t host this fête only for you to lie about like an invalid. We Palpatines are stronger than that.”

Rey blinks away the remaining fog in her vision, taking in the wrinkled, pale face of the man in front of her. She’s never seen him before. Just who the hell does he think he is, putting his hands on her? 

She slaps him back, shoving him away from her. He falls to the wooden floor with a yelp and a comical _ thud_, though he’s quick to recover. He reaches for her foot with a gnarled hand, cursing as he does.

“Wretched girl, how dare you! I’m your _ grandfather_, you ungrateful bitch!”

Rey stops fighting at that, his words giving her pause. _ Grandfather_? She doesn’t have a grandfather! She doesn’t have any family to speak of. She’s always been a foster kid. That’s all she knows. This man... _ no_. She can’t be related to him. This isn’t right. Where is Ren? 

Fingernails cut into her skin and she’s yanked to her feet, but not by the man still at her feet. Someone behind her. 

Rey turns, praying it’s Ren, come to take her away from this absolute asshole. 

It isn’t. It’s another man she doesn’t recognize, older and uglier than the first one, but unfortunately stronger. He holds her fast, thwarting her attempts to escape. Rey starts to panic in earnest, sucking in a breath of air to scream. He silences her by clapping a hand over her mouth, cruelly squeezing her jaw to the point of pain. 

“Now now, Lady Aurelia. Don’t scream. It’s not becoming. Your grandfather is only doing what’s best for you. I suggest you listen to him and continue to do so_. _If you even _think_ of behaving in such a manner once we are wed, you won’t be able to show your pretty face in public for a week. Slaps don’t bruise but punches do. Is that understood, _dearest_?”

Oh, _ hell _no. 

This can’t be happening. She can’t be betrothed to this walking corpse! He looks absolutely terrifying, his sunken skin and scarred face the thing of nightmares. Except this isn’t a nightmare. This is actually happening to her, and in a split second she realizes that it’s up to her - not anyone else, not Ren, but _ her _\- to solve this. She’s in charge of this new life, and she’s not going to let these two creeps control it. 

As fast and as hard as she can, Rey knees him where it hurts. He groans as he drops to the floor, scratching at her face and arms along the way, but that pain doesn’t register to her. Nor does the feeling of her hair being ripped from her scalp by the other man - her supposed _ grandfather_, who is proving to be a shit excuse for one already. She just focuses on running, one foot in front of the other. Out of the study, along a darkened hallway, back to the music that she can hear growing louder. 

She bursts into the room with about as much grace as a bull in a china shop. 

The music stops, as does the crowd of dancers. Everyone turns to stare at her, their faces hidden behind masks. Painfully self-conscious of the sudden attention, Rey reaches up to adjust her own mask only to find it missing. _ Shit. _She must’ve lost it in the scuffle. 

“That’s Lady Aurelia,” she hears someone whisper.

“Goodness, are you certain? She looks a fright,” whispers another. 

Rey ignores these comments, edging along the perimeter of the room, looking anywhere and everywhere for Ren. She bumps into no less than five footmen, who all try to offer her sweet madeira wine or beautifully arranged canapés. Her stomach growls at the sight but she declines, all too aware of so many eyes on her. 

“A diamond of the first water she is most decidedly not. At least not anymore. Her sparkle is fading at the same rate as her family’s fortune. Why else marry her off to Lord Snoke?” 

This voice sounds far less kind than the others, the comment snide and nasally pronounced behind a fan. A few titters of laughter follow, and what semblance of control she had leaves her in a rush. 

“You know I can hear all of you, right?” she snaps, turning to face them. “You aren’t fucking subtle. Why don’t you say what you want to my face instead? And call me Rey while you’re at it, assholes.”

No one says a word back. 

The stunned silence that descends in the wake of her statement is even more intense than before, so quiet that Rey has no trouble hearing the commotion coming from the corridor. 

“_STOP HER_!”

“AURELIA! COME BACK AT ** _ONCE_**_!” _

God, not again! 

Why is none of this going according to plan?! Why is everyone calling her Aurelia? Why aren’t her friends here? Is this really what her past self’s life was like? Stifled, oppressed, her future controlled by men? 

And where in the everloving _ fuck _ is Ren? She doesn’t recognize his wide shoulders or raven hair in any man here. He’s kind of hard to miss in that way, and the fact that he’s nowhere to be seen...dread fills her instantly. 

Dread and terror. 

Has she just made the biggest mistake of her entire life? 

Has she transported herself back in time, only to _ miss _the person she did all of this for? 

Panic engulfs her again, making it hard to breathe. 

“_AURELIA_!” 

That earsplitting scream spurs her into motion again. The two elderly men rush into the ballroom as fast as their geriatric legs will allow them, but Rey is already hiking up her dress to her thighs to break into a run, much to the shocked gasps of the party-goers. She doesn’t pay them any mind, though, shoving her way through the crowd. There’s an open French door on the opposite side of the ballroom, letting in some much needed fresh air from outside, and she barrels her way there. 

The outdoor balcony is ill-lit, the bright moon overhead doing a better job of showing her the way down the stone steps and into the maze of hedges. Rey keeps pushing onward, not looking behind her even though she hears more shouting. She has to keep going, has to keep running, even though she doesn’t know where she’s running to. Running has become synonymous with these Halloween experiences so she’s gotten really, really good at it. Training her body to push itself to its absolute limit. But she also hates it. She’s so fucking tired of it. 

Can’t she just have a normal encounter with her long-lost soulmate? A walk in a meadow? A night at the opera? Hell, mending a _ fucking _sock or whatever else people did for fun in the 1800s? 

Apparently not, if he’s not here. If he’s not even in this ‘once upon a time’ that has become her reality, far less romantic than what she hoped it would be. She’d envisioned meeting him at the party. Dancing with him. Sneaking away with him somewhere, professing her love and how he’s been on her mind every day for the past year. 

Instead, she’s fleeing into the night from some abusive grandfather she never knew she had. An abusive grandfather who has arranged a marriage between her and an equally abusive man named Snoke. This...this isn’t what she had in mind at all. She already wants to go back home. Back to the future. _ Badly_. 

“_Fuck!_”

Rey doubles over, just long enough to catch her breath and hastily wipe at her tears.

Then she keeps going.

***

For how long, she doesn’t know. 

Beyond the hedgerows lies a forest, and she entered it what feels like hours ago. She can’t see very well, the thick canopy of trees blocking out the moonlight and cloaking her surroundings in darkness, so she’s fallen down several times. Nothing too bad, though. Just scratches from branches and twigs in her hair and her lungs burning from the cold. 

_ It could be worse_, she keeps repeating, tightly hugging herself to conserve her body heat. She could be back with those awful men. They could be punishing her, hurting her. She’s lost now, wandering aimlessly and freezing her ass off in what is presumably the English countryside, but it could always be worse.

Much later, when the sound of dogs barking pierces through the silence, she realizes it’s true. It could be worse. It _ is _ worse. Much, much worse. Because those are _ hound dogs _she hears. Hound dogs that can most assuredly pick up her scent, alerting their master to her presence. 

“_Shit_.”

Her sense of direction has never been strong, and out here it’s completely fucked, but she tries to head in the opposite direction of the barking - or at least, in the direction she thinks is opposite. As the minutes pass and the barking continues, growing louder, her fear catches up to her. She sprints faster than she ever has in her life, feet aching, blood pounding in her ears, on and on—

She trips over a log just as she spies a clearing through the trees, encased in fog but still blessedly out of the woods. 

This time, the fall definitely hurts. It hurts like _ hell_. When she tries to stand again, putting weight on her right foot, the pain is so white hot that she can’t help but cry out. 

She slumps back down, pulling her dress up to her knees. Her ankle is tender to the touch, throbbing, but she doesn’t think it’s broken. Sprained, definitely, but not broken. She can deal with a sprained ankle. The only other option is laying here, waiting for those dogs to catch up to her like some cornered fox they hunt. That’s not happening. 

Ripping up the hem of the dress is easier than she expects, as is tying a makeshift brace around her foot in the dark. When she tries standing again, leaning heavily on her left leg, the pain isn’t nearly as bad as before. It still hurts like a bitch, but she can walk. Well, more like hobble. Hobbling is better than nothing, though. 

“LADY AURELIA!”

“AURELIA! ARE YOU OUT THERE?”

Rey startles, increasing her pace until she reaches the clearing.

The unfamiliar voices echo, but they’re close. Close as the barking. It’s a goddamn _ search party_, probably organized by those two dinosaurs in breeches. Well, they’re not going to find her. Not if she can help it. If she made it through the woods, if she can make it through this horrible fog, if she can make it through the night, then—

The sound of horse hooves pounding against the ground, drawing nearer by the second, is the only warning she receives before she’s swept off her feet.

She’s unceremoniously dropped sideways onto a horse saddle, the landing so rough that she doubles over from the pain of it, the breath knocked out of her. 

_ Fuck, _ that felt like a sudden kick to the vagina. _ Jesus_. 

Enraged and ready to fight tooth-and-nail to escape again, Rey twists in her seat, her fist raised to defend herself from this asshat who’s picked her up like a ragdoll and carried her off on horseback—

Only to lower her hand when she gets a good look at his face.

She could recognize that face anywhere now. 

It’s featured heavily in her dreams for the past year. She’s looked at a tiny miniature painting of it, committing every detail to memory. The pale skin dotted with beauty marks. An aquiline nose, a regal brow. A full mouth capable of sinful things - things that she swears have left a permanent impression on her skin. 

And the scar. The scar _ she _ gave him. 

“_Ren!_”

Overwhelming happiness washes over her. Overwhelming happiness and relief. 

Because he’s _ here_.

He’s found her. 

She’s found him. 

They’ve found each other at last and everything is going to be okay now. They won’t have to be alone again. They can overcome the curse together, because their love is stronger. Yes, _ love_. They’re in love. It’s taken her no small amount of time to understand it, to understand their destinies and how they’re intertwined. But she gets it now. And she’s ready to spend the rest of her life with him, showing him how much she loves him. He won’t have to doubt whether she feels the same ever again. He’ll _ know_. 

Rey wraps her arms around him, burying her face into his chest. He feels like home and he smells exactly how she remembers: spicy, woodsy, natural. Perfect. He’s perfect, and she can’t believe he’s hers and he’s finally here and—

He’s stiff. He isn’t hugging her back. 

Rey lets go of him, uncertain. 

“Ren?”

He spurs the horse onward with a flick of the reins but he doesn’t meet her eyes. He stares resolutely ahead, his mouth drawn into a frown. Indifferent. He’s indifferent, cold. Almost as if he..._ no._

A newfound fear rises up within her, making her stomach lurch. Rey turns forward in her seat again, willing herself not to burst into tears.

The fog clears just enough that she can make out a grand and imposing estate in the near distance. One that would put Mr. Darcy’s Pemberley to shame. The horse gallops towards it at a punishing pace, taking her further away from the awful people who are looking for her, but she’s never felt as hopeless as she does right now. 

Because this time, by some cruel twist of fate, Ren is the one who doesn’t remember her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .....I feel like an ass for not updating for 4 months and then leaving it there 😳 BUT I have plans for the next chapter (will also be Regency) and at least 3 chapters after that. I've increased the chapter count to reflect this. THEY'LL GET A HAPPY ENDING IN THE PRESENT I SWEAR 😭
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading and letting me know what you think! I'm a little bit behind on comments but I'll get to everyone's eventually ♥️
> 
> Huge thanks to [Jenn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JGoose13/pseuds/JGoose13) and [Keely](https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenBumble/pseuds/QueenBumble) for beta'ing!


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